Gender Blindness

I wrote this more than a decade ago. I was writing recently about the number of other people's dates that I've been on as a 3rd wheel - yeah, I'm sure you'll end up getting to read about that, and some of you have known me long enough to remember those dates - and I remembered this essay. It was very painful and confusing for me to figure out, as a middle aged parent, things that most people probably got a handle on long about puberty. Still, in spite of the difficulty and confusion, I do think things would be better if they were the way I always thought they were.

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I found out, years after the fact, that when I first met my husband he was intimidated by the number of male names in my conversation. It wasn't just the references to movies with Scott and Mike or lunch with Darren, it was talk of entire vacations with Tony, Guy, Joe, Andy and the like – the weekend in the Bay Area, the trips to Disneyland. No one I knew ever assumed that I was dating any of the guys attached to these names, so it never occurred to me that any one else would.

For one thing, trips were never one on one, just me and a male. It was usually large groups of us. I remember going through Disneyland confounding the ride operators by answering, "15," when they asked, "How many in your party?" For another, I've inherited a bit of my mother's habit of assuming that if I know something, so does everyone else. Mostly, though, I thought there was an invisible but unmistakable sign around my neck that forever branded me The Buddy, never ever to be confused with The Leading Lady. Growing up, my friends all seemed to see it.

Dan, on the other hand, assumed that with all kinds of men in my life, I must be fielding all kinds of offers for dates (or more.) I guess that's actually a prudent assumption to make if you're going to be asking someone out. He was sure these men were at least potential rivals.

A woman I met in adulthood still has trouble believing that I was one of the guys. She's sure none of them could have missed unmistakable signs of being female, like breasts. They all noticed that I had them, I'm sure, but I still wasn't considered a girl. I was gender neutral. The only time they thought of me as being a female is when they came to me for romantic advice, as in, "You're a girl. What do girls like?" I could never understand why they asked someone who never dated for dating advice. When I'd bring it up, though, I was always told that it was because I had access to secret girl thoughts, because girls would talk to me about guys. Girls, of course, asked me things too, but it was usually rhetorical – "Isn't he gorgeous?" My male friends wanted actual battle plans. How do I impress her? How do I ask her out? Where should we go? I wanted to snap, "How should I know?" I knew how to impress me, not anybody else.

One male friend actually overlooked the whole gender thing to the point that he actually said to me, "Don't ever get a girlfriend, Sharon. They're too expensive." When I responded, in a withering tone of voice, "I don't think that'll be a problem," he said, "Oh, you know what I mean." Well, no, I didn't, but I assumed he didn't actively mean to be either brain dead or offensive.

Dan did not grow up in a world of platonic relationships. When he heard me mention going places with someone named Tony, it would no more have occurred to him that it was platonic than he would have assumed that a sound heard in the woods was Bigfoot (in whom he does not believe). It was simply not part of his reality. In his reality, "platonic" meant either, 1. The girl you liked didn't like you back, or 2. It was part of a ruse used to get close to a girl without admitting that you were interested. Remember the speech in "When Harry Met Sally" about how she only thought she had male friends? That was pretty much how Dan felt.

As an adolescent, Dan wanted to grow up to be a swinging 70's disco god. I wanted to grow up to live on the equivalent of Sesame Street, where it not only didn't matter what color (or gender) your neighbor was, it didn't even matter if they were human. We inevitably experienced culture clash.

It didn't take him too very long to decide that I really wasn't dating any of these guys. It took a lot longer for him to formulate an opinion as to why. He was making First Contact with an alien race.

I still struggle sometimes with understanding how or why male and female friends are different. If I could talk to one about buying underwear, or childbirth, or why I hate pantyhose, why couldn't I tell the other? If I spent time on the phone, or shopping, or going to lunch with one, surely it was OK to do it with another, plumbing notwithstanding. I wasn't going to be having sex with any of them. When I was growing up, none of this was a problem. After reaching adulthood, no one seemed to understand or expect it.

Whenever I couldn't make it to some event Dan wanted to attend, I'd always call a girlfriend of mine to go with him. He won't attend any kind of event alone, and it seemed silly to call a guy friend. If he wanted a guy to go with, he could call one, right? I had no problem with this. I thought it was very funny when one of his coworkers was flustered by Dan's appearance at the company dinner with a lovely woman who was not his wife. I was extremely annoyed when I was house managing a play and an usher became quite worried when my husband and best friend showed up together. If it was a secret that they were together, they would have gone somewhere else, wouldn't they? I was just sure the intentions were obvious.

It was also alternately funny and puzzling when it was me out with a male friend because my husband could't attend the function, especially when I ran into someone I hadn't seen in a long time. They had no idea quite what to think. I remember attending a theater company dinner and introducing my escort as, "This is my friend, Tim." One woman said, nervously, "That's nice. Did I tell you that I'm getting a divorce?" I didn't understand such people. I just thought they had a very narrow view of the world.

I grew up in a church in which people are often affectionate, physically and otherwise. Men were just as likely as women to hug you, pat your shoulder or knee, kiss your cheek, walk down the hall with their arm around you or offer you any kind of help. Age and marital status were immaterial. Men could, and did, comment that it was wonderful to be surrounded by beauty when they were in the Young Women organization for 12 to 18 year olds, just as they did when they were visiting in the women's organization. They might also stand with their arm around you at a public function, even if you were both married to other folks. Nobody worried that this was inappropriate. When I was a sophomore in high school, my bishop held a co-ed youth group sleepover at his house. (In later years, when such co-ed functions were no longer allowed for church youth groups, I thought decidedly judgemental and angry thoughts about the people whose bad behavior had forced the policy change.) If the rest of the world wasn't that way, I was just unaware.

I had to change my mind after I discovered that there were actually people of both genders who misinterpreted my behavior. Aside from basic gender blindness, I was sure that my status as a very married, large, religious mother of four precluded any such misunderstanding. It was quite traumatic to find out that I was wrong.

A friend had become convinced that I was hitting on her husband. To make matters worse, her husband also thought so. He never said anything, and she waited until she was utterly furious before she brought it up. She simmered for six months or so before blowing up at me. I had to ask what, exactly, was bothering them.

The examples she gave me made no sense to me. "You always laugh at his jokes. You always sit by him even when there's other empty seats. You go talk to him when you're having problems." Well, sure. Guilty as charged. It wasn't an invitation to fall into bed. Luckily, she had been around me in various settings enough to see what I meant when I said, "I treat everybody that way." If the jokes are funny, I laugh. Sometimes I'll laugh louder if they aren't funny, to save the joke teller from that horrible, crickets chirping silence.

I was in a play at the time, and the 18 year old ingenue frequently sat on my lap while I brushed her hair. She often joked that she and I were having an affair, and the lighting tech told her every time that she had to bring in video. (I wondered whether this behavior wasn't her way of avoiding being too chummy with the single guys. She was adorable and perky and 18, and everyone noticed.) One of the men in the cast, a 19 or 20 year old college student, had a ritual with me (actors tend to be big on rituals) of my slapping his rear end with my purse before we went out for a certain scene. At work, I frequently brought in things for male co-workers – chocolate chip cookies to share with the other chocoholic in the office, for example. One man in the office called me his "favorite file clerk," even though I was the only file clerk. I never, ever imagined that any of these things would be construed as "passes," and I told my friend so.

As for telling her husband my problems, well, he'd asked. When I'd looked down or distracted, he'd wanted to know why. I'm generally a "too much information" person. There are only a few subjects I don't want to discuss. Otherwise, if you want to know, I'll tell you. Occasionally, if you don't want to know, I'll still tell you. I quite probably have too few boundaries.

I adore your husband, I told her, but I'm not looking to trade mine in. "Anything I've ever said in front of him, I'd say in front of my bishop! He's a great guy, too."

Even though she told me she found it hard to believe that I was "that naive," she did concede that, yes, indeed, I did tend to treat everyone that way. I did discover, though, that there had been other times someone thought I was making a pass, and I thought I was merely making conversation. Who knew that "I missed you," or "Wow, you look great," would be taken as expressions of sexual interest? Not me, certainly.

I have finally had to admit that I've gotten it wrong. There are differences between male and female friends. I can now intellectually explain to you why this is. I can tell you what the differences are. But, deep down, I still feel that the rest of the world just doesn't "get it." I still think there shouldn't be any difference. I've just had to realize that we shouldn't have to have locks on our homes (or cars or what have you), but we have to anyway. Maybe there shouldn't be a difference in friendships, but there is.

I became temporarily unhinged. I thought about all the times I'd scoffed at references to eye contact being a sexual signal. What if it was? How do you go through life not making eye contact, not smiling at people? I did that with everybody – people I passed in the mall, people in restaurants, people where I worked. And, I'd always assumed it was safer to have male friends who were married. That way, I was sure, no signals would get crossed. But they did! What now? And how about compliments? Who could I compliment? Who could I hug? Trying to hash it out with the women I knew wasn't entirely successful. "Some men think you're making a pass at them if you're doing nothing but breathing," one said. AAUUGGHHHH!

I've dated one person in my lifetime. One. I am not equipped to make sense of these situations.

I became terrified of saying or doing anything. My usual yardstick – does it bother me or my husband? – had proven to be worthless. My past experience had proven unreliable. What now? My desk was at the far end of the office; everyone had to pass it to get to the break room, the bathrooms or the Xerox machine, which was also a shared printer. I'd always looked up from my work, smiled at whoever went by, and made small talk if they were amenable. Now, I spent days staring straight down at my desk, looking at no one, speaking to no one. My nerves were fried.

I asked my husband, "Is it just me?" I asked my friends, "Is it just me?" They were all supportive, but I still didn't really know if it was just me.

I probably still don't know. There's a good chance I won't ever really "get it." But hey, if you're thinking that I made a pass at you any time after 1985, no matter what gender you are, you're mistaken. OK?